True Serpent
by miarae
Summary: Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he? RonHermione
1. Prologue

**Title:** True Serpent

**Summary: **Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot.

**A/N: **This is just a very short prologue. First chapter should be up soon.

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At times I feel normal. I feel like I am myself again. Like I am not slowly going crazy. The days are cold here, and they seem as everlasting as the nights. Although people around me are screaming, I hear nothing but silence. There are no visitors, and once people leave, they'll never come back. They are doomed to lie in shallow graves, with not even a name written in the tombstones, which grow rapidly in number.

I try to remind myself of my name every day, though I do not know when one day passes into another. I need to remind myself, need to believe that I was once a good person, to stop myself from going crazy.

Ronald Bilius Weasley is my name, and I am doomed to spend the rest of my life –if you can still call it that– in Azkaban.

Why? I will tell you, though I doubt that you will believe me. My friends didn't.

I don't blame them. If it had happened to any other person I would have reacted the same way. After all, I murdered Harry Potter.


	2. Even The Best Fall Down Sometimes

**Title:** True Serpent

**Summary: **Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot.

**A/N: **Because I don't want to ruin (or: give away) the plot, this story will be in various perspectives. This chapter is Hermione's POV.

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_Several months earlier_

We sat down near the cosy fireplace, on of our favourite places in the Burrow, like we did so many nights. Who knew that tonight would be different? Who could know? I was watching Harry, who seemed more sad and determined with every day that passed. I knew that we would soon leave, and that Harry would try to stop us once more. Ginny, who had barely spoken all summer, would be the only Weasley left in Hogwarts. She had promised to keep in touch, to update us whenever something suspicious happened. I knew that part of her wanted to come with us, and part of her was glad to stay behind. It was difficult to talk to her now, and I wondered when I would see her again. If I would see her again. There were so many uncertainties now, and I was glad that I could count on my two best friends. Nothing would ever come between us. Whatever happened...we would be there for each other. Always. I trusted them.

Suddenly, Ron stood up. Harry and I watched him, as he walked out of the room. We shared a moment, his curious green eyes locking with my worried brown ones. Harry shrugged, and I sighed, wondering whether I should follow my friend. He seemed different lately. Like Ginny, he barely spoke to us. At first we shrugged it off, thinking that he was worried about next year. I blamed myself, thinking that I might have scared him with my constant nagging about NEWTS. Whenever I tried to bring up the subject with Harry though, he merely sighed and started talking about other things. I suppose that we were all worried, all on edge. After all, no matter what had happened at Hogwarts, it was safe. We knew what to expect, sort of. Abandoning our education, our friends, and hunting Voldemort...it made us feel like kids. We were barely seventeen. How would we be able to find the Horcruxes? I couldn't talk to Ron or Harry about it, but sometimes I found myself wishing that something would stop this madness.

Harry's eyes crossed mine a second time, and he stood up, nodding at me. I smiled, relieved, and practically stared him out the door. I suddenly heard the fire crackle, and felt at peace. Whatever happened, nothing could harm us as long as we had this friendship, this trust between us that made talking superfluous. I hummed along with the radio, waiting for my friends to walk back in so I could tell them how much I loved them. I thought about Ron, about the way he had held me after Dumbledore's funeral. I had thought about telling him for a while now, but it had never felt like the right time. I decided that yes, I would tell him tonight. Tonight would be the right time. I suddenly felt nervous and had to try hard to stop myself from pacing up and down the room.

They didn't exactly make it easy on me. Time passed by. Half an hour. An hour. I glanced at Ginny, who was staring at the fire as if she was the only person in the room. She didn't seem nervous. Perhaps I was just worried about telling Ron. I kept telling myself that for another half-hour, then grabbed my coat and headed out. Unsure of where to go, I allowed my intuition to guide my feet.

What I saw...it's hard to describe. Even now, my eyes start watering and my stomach starts turning. I can't remember if I threw up, I think I did, the sight was horrible. And he...he just stood there. Watching him. **Smiling**. I should have known right then and there. Instead, I ran up to him and threw myself in his arms, crying. It took him a few seconds to respond, seconds that seemed eternal. When I felt his arms around me, he stiffened, as if he realised only now what had happened. I asked him, looking up with my teary eyes, I asked him what happened. He stammered that he didn't know, that he remembered Harry walking up to him, but that he didn't know what happened afterwards. I let go of him, trying to check if Harry was still alive – though I knew by the twisted look on his face that he wouldn't be, after all nobody can beat the Killing Curse – but Ron wouldn't let me. He held my body, which shivered, against his, so I couldn't see Harry.

It wasn't fair! It was just not fair! Harry was supposed to be famous for cheating death, for being able to survive a Killing Curse. How could he die now, an able wizard, when he had lived as just a baby boy? It wasn't fair! He was supposed to help us. To save us. What would we do know? How would we survive? We needed him. We needed him to guide the way, to help us find Voldemort. We needed him to kill Voldemort. Oh god, does this mean that Voldemort will win?

Thoughts kept whirling through my head and all the while Ron held me in his arms. I was surprised that he could be so calm under the circumstances. It was only when I calmed down that I realised we needed to call out for help. I untangled myself from Rons' arms and looked at him once more.

"Who..."

I started, feeling numb,

"What happened? Who did this?"

I needed to know the truth. Needed to know who killed the bravest man alive so I could hunt him down and kill him myself. I needed to know, not just so I could kill the person who did this, but also because knowledge had always been my friend and I desperately needed something to hold on to.

Ron still looked dazed. He stared down at Harry's body, frowning, as if he was trying to remember something. I watched him quietly, like we were in some stupid tableau vivant. When he looked back up at me, I saw regret in his eyes. Regret, and sorrow. I took his hand, pulling him close to me. This time my arms comforted his as he broke down crying.

I don't know exactly how long we had been standing there, but suddenly we became aware of someone screaming. Ginny stood but a few feet away from us, her eyes wide. She wasn't crying, which struck me as odd, but I later learned that she was too shocked to do anything but scream.

Things happened fairly quickly after that. Somehow Molly and Arthur had arrived at the scene, and within minutes Ministry Officials were searching the woods. They returned shortly, telling us that they hadn't found any traces of magic, except for the very spot we were standing on.

"What does that mean?"

Ginny said quietly,

"Surely somebody must have been here?"

She leaned into her mother who stroked her hair absentmindedly. I wished someone would comfort me as they comforted her, but I dared not approach Ron. He looked so cold, so absentminded.

"It means, young lady, that whoever committed this cowardly crime, has either vanished from this exact spot, or is still standing here."

Another Ministry Official looked at us suspiciously. Mister Weasley spoke up, saying what we all wanted to say.

"This is ridiculous. You are not suspecting any of us, are you? We are his family!"

One of the Officials I vaguely remembered seeing at Dumbledore's funeral shook his head sadly.

"Of course not Arthur. It's just, you know, standard procedure. May we check your wands?"

Mrs Weasley cried out,

"Arthur! Surely you won't let them do this!"

Mister Weasley put his arm around his wife, looking straight at the Ministry Officials.

"Surely you won't force us to do something that humiliating in a time like this..."

"We are not forcing you, Arthur. We are **asking** you."

Ginny stepped forward, her eyes cautiously avoiding the body on the ground.

"Here,"

She said, and handed them her wand. Her mother cried out:

"Ginny!"

But Ginny merely shook her head and said:

"The more we co-operate the sooner we'll know who did this. I don't want to stand here all night."

Mister Weasley was the second person to hand over his wand. I followed, giving both my wand and Rons', who was still standing there as if he was paralysed. Mrs Weasley, whose face forecast thunder, was the last to hand over her wand.

For a few seconds nobody but I seemed to notice the commotion. The Aurors kept looking at us as if we were on trial, performed some more spells that I would normally be interested in, before turning to face us again.

"We would like to ask you some questions Mr Weasley."

"What are you talking about? Arthur was inside with me! We arrived only after the...murder."

One of the Aurors shook his head.

"We don't mean your husband, Mrs Weasley. We want to talk to young Mister Weasley here."

"Me?"

Ron said at the same time as Ginny cried out,

"Him?"

"This must be a mistake,"

Arthur said confidently, walking up to the Aurors.

"Why do you want to question him?"

"It seems that his wand was responsible for the Killing Curse that killed young Potter here."

"No!"

Somebody cried, and it took me a few seconds to figure out that it was me, who was shouting at the Ministry Officials. They were wrong! They had to be wrong! Ron would never kill anybody, let alone Harry. They had to be wrong. There had to be an explanation for this. Couldn't they bring back Harry's ghost, like Harry had done in fourth year? Surely they could! Surely Harry could tell them that this was all a mistake. He would tell us who had murdered him and we would get the bastard responsible.

Ron looked horrified. I wanted to touch him, to hug him, to make him come back from wherever his mind had travelled to. I wanted to be there for him, but it seemed as if he didn't want me there. He avoided my stare, and those of his family, and watched the Aurors quietly, before nodding.

"I killed him."

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	3. The Dawn Is Breaking

**Title: **True Serpent

**Summary:** Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, which makes me very happy. I just wish I'd own a lot of reviews too...

**A/N: **The italicised part of this chapter is a flashback. Also, if it seems Ron is getting out of Azkaban soon, this is because this story is centred on Ron/Hermione dealing with events. In order for them to deal with events, he'll have to be able to spend time with her.

**A/N: **Chapter titles from this chapter on are based on a song. The first sentences will be part of the lyrics.

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_The dawn is breaking._

I am sitting here in my cell, looking at the first rays of sun which always symbolise hope. I wonder whether this day will be different from any other day, and curse myself for my foolish thoughts. But I have to do this; I can't stay realistic everyday because if I do I know that I will be crazy soon.

I think of her a lot. I remember our last moments together, how her trust in me began to fade. How her warm chocolate eyes turned a cold brown as I confessed my sins. She doesn't know the truth, and somehow that makes it easier. I know that she won't understand, that she is thinking of me, of it, everyday, trying to figure out what exactly happened that fateful night. She must have thought about it, must have at least considered the possibility. I wonder whether she felt hopeful, or if it didn't matter at all. I am a murderer, no matter which way you twist it. I killed Harry Potter. I killed **hope**. And nothing I say, or do, will ever change that.

So I sit here in my prison cell and think, and keep thinking because if I stop thinking I will go crazy. She is what keeps me sane, and I love and hate her for it every day. If I could just stop, stop thinking, stop **being** then it would all be easier. They could move on. They could forget about me and think of a way to deal with the upcoming war. They would win, I know they would.

He didn't of course; he thought that Harry was the key to victory. He thought that this stupid prophecy about Harry and Voldemort meant that Voldemort would automatically win as soon as Harry was murdered. I hope they show him. I hope they win so this whole stupid nightmare would be just that...a nightmare. I don't want to hear that they lost because of what I did. I used to be envious, used to want to make a difference, but now I pray that I won't. That whatever I did would not influence the outcome of anything. Except maybe Hermione's happiness. But that's not fair to ask.

I love her. I've never told her that, though I've told her every day that I am here. It hurts, when I realise that she will never know. That she will continue her life without me influencing it. That she will one day forget me, and move on. Some days I wish I had told her, and some days I think that she is better off this way.

There are so many ifs to this story. If I had told her, if she would have liked me the way I liked her, if we would have taken that chance, would it have made a difference? Would she have known? Would she have seen the difference in me? Would she have been able to prevent it?

I wait for my breakfast, knowing that I will lose my appetite as soon as _he_ stands in front of my cell. Most people are glad that the Dementors are gone, but I'd trade _him_ for them in a heartbeat. It's just so degrading. He never speaks to me, but I know his thoughts without him voicing them. The first time I saw him I thought that somehow he had come to get me. To save me. I thought that perhaps the Ministry had new evidence, that they knew what had happened to me. That they knew **why**. I jumped up, pressing myself to the bars in an attempt to grasp his robes. He jabbed me with his wand, his eyes cold behind his glasses. Throwing my food on the ground he turned around without a word. I begged him to look at me, to talk to me.

"Percy..."

He didn't turn around. He didn't listen to me. He just walked away. My own brother.

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Somehow, even before he enters my view, I know that today is different. He is hesitant, his face not showing the same confidence as before. I dare not acknowledge the difference, staying in my usual position, in which I am leaning against a brick wall facing the floor. He prefers it this way, prefers to think of me as a convict, a prisoner, instead of his brother. I allow it, because I am still hoping, some days against hope, that in the end he will help me break free.

"Stand up,"

He says, his voice wavering, though his eyes look stern behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Turn around. Don't try anything stupid."

_Like killing Harry Potter?_

I feel shackles appearing around my wrists, and I shake them uncomfortably. I hear the cell being opened, and suddenly a wand is pressed into my back.

"Come."

I want to ask so many questions. Where am I going? What is going on? I know that he isn't going to let me escape, because other guards are standing a few feet away. One of them is holding a Ministry paper, and after a soft cough he begins to read.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are hereby ordered to attend a Ministry Hearing at 11.00 a.m. this morning."

Nobody explains why, and I can only guess. I have already been sentenced to life in Azkaban, what more can they want from me? Maybe they think that I know something, that I can somehow clarify another unexplained murder.

It seems to take forever, but I am finally standing in front of serious looking wizards and witches, the rest of the room filled with familiar people. I can't stand to look at them. My family is there. Remus Lupin is, as well as most of the Order. I notice that Hermione isn't there. My heart drops. I would have liked to see her one more time.

"We would like to present new evidence as to what might have happened the night young Harry Potter was killed."

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. What?

"Very well,"

I hear one of the wizards say, before he turns to me. So does the wizard who made my heart leap not a minute ago.

"Mister Weasley,"

He says, and I have to hold on to the bench, because I fear, that if I do not feel the wood pressing against my hands, this might turn out to be a dream.

"We would like to hear your story again."

I have told this story before, and it has not changed since the first time I had to tell it. I wonder what new evidence they have, whether they will pick up on something in my story they haven't picked up on before.

"We were sitting near the fireplace..."

_I know that they're looking at me, but I need to be alone for a while. Sometimes I get this itch, this irrepressible urge to move, to do something. I have weird thoughts lately. Sometimes I look at my friends and I feel hate surging through my veins. Harry is so special. He is always the hero. And Hermione...no matter how much I love her, I envy her too. She is so strong, so smart. She provides something that I can't. They make a good team, and I am just the sidekick. When thoughts like these enter my mind I need to be alone. I'm not like this. I don't care about being the sidekick, do I? I just want to help save the world._

_Inhaling fresh air makes me feel better. Lately I've been feeling like my head is filled with feathers. I can't think straight, and sometimes I feel like I don't control my own actions. I've even blacked out a couple of times. It makes me scared, but I don't tell anyone. They've got enough stuff to worry about as it is. And besides, how much damage can it do? So I don't remember every minute of every day, well who does?_

_I've been telling myself this for a long time now. Ever since the wedding really. I don't know what changed that day, but it feels like Fleur is permanently next to me. I can't think straight, talk straight, and most of the time I avoid my friends._

_I don't know how long I've been walking around, but I suddenly find myself near the forest. I hear footsteps. Harry's. It's funny how you can hear the difference between people's footsteps...I guess we've known each other for a long time now. I don't have to turn around, he knows that he can approach me._

"_Hey mate" _

_He catches up with me and for a while we walk in silence, just enjoying each others' company. He knows that I don't want to talk. I doubt that he does, so we keep walking deeper into the forest._

_Suddenly everything goes black, and the next thing I remember is seeing Harry on the ground. Hermione's arms are around me, and I feel a smile on my face. I quickly rearrange my features, trying to make sense of this situation. She asks me what happened, and I tell her that I don't know. It's true; I don't know what happened. I don't know why I don't remember, or why my blackout ended when Hermione threw her arms around me._

"Are you claiming, Mister Weasley, that you were under the Imperius Curse?"

"That is ridiculous,"

Somebody is shouting, and I wonder whether or not it is ridiculous. Why should people believe me? After all, it sounds like a lie even to me.

"I don't know...I'm telling the truth. I don't know what happened."

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	4. A Light Shining Through

**Title: **True Serpent

**Summary:** Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot, which makes me very happy. I just wish I'd own a lot of reviews too...

**A/N:** The song is called "Collide" by Howie Day

**A/N: **I would love it so much if you could point other readers in the direction of this story! I need more reviewers :P

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_A light shining through…_

When I was thrown back into my prison cell I could not help but hope that perhaps something would finally change. I tried to keep telling myself that hope was foolish, that I should face the truth, that they had thrown me back in Azkaban without so much as a promise; but I couldn't help it. I needed something to hold on to. I needed to believe that someone, someday, would see the truth. How can they all think that I wanted to murder Harry? How could they be so stupid? Harry was my mate, my best friend. Sure, we had a couple of fights, but nothing serious. He's had my back and I've always had his.

It takes me a few minutes to notice that he is standing in front of my cell. I jump up, immediately cursing my body. He walks closer to the bars as I remain firmly in place, my eyes watching the uneven floor that is layered with years of filth and tears. More filth than tears, because you learn to stop feeling sorry for yourself within a few days. I cried too, when I came here, but after a while I realised that it was a waste of energy or effort. Nobody cares. When I first caught his eye I hoped that he'd care, but he is as bad as the others. Worse, because he knows me. He knows that I would never do something like that. Or at least, he should.

"Ron…"

I look up in surprise. All those months, all those days, and he has never, not once, called me by my name. I see that he is shaking, his hands grapping his wand firmly. I register his movements without realising their meaning, without even trying to understand why he's acting the way he is. I am so numb now, so broken by what happened yesterday...how could they throw me back? I wanted to scream, to fight, to do **something**. I wanted to wake up from this horrible dream.

"Percy..."

I nod at him. He's fidgeting with his robes now. It amuses me in a strange way. It's like he's on trial. Well that makes for a nice change, doesn't it? I fight down the urge to say something about it, instead settling down for a not entirely unnoticeable grin.

"I came by to tell you...to say..."

I shake my head, walking over to him so I can look him straight in the eye.

"Save it for someone who cares Percy. I know how this is going to go. Either you'll say that you believe me, or you'll say that you don't. I don't need to hear it, because either way, it'll hurt. You haven't been at my side when I got convicted, don't start now. It might get you fired from your lovely job."

I spat at him, turning my head towards the wall, because for some stupid reason my eyes started watering. They had all turned on me. Mum. Dad. They tried to believe in me, in my innocence, but I could see the hurt in their eyes. Right then, I knew, I understood. I wasn't half the man Harry had been. I was nothing but a failure. They could be proud of him...he was more their son than I'll ever be. I remember looking at Ginny, whose eyes were empty. She didn't hate me. She didn't love me. She just didn't **care**. And then I remember looking at Hermione.

Hermione. I thought once that she knew me like nobody else. I thought that she would see that this wasn't me. I thought that she would see through my façade, that she would see the qualities I kept hidden. She used to. She used to see through my bragging, through my indifference, right down to the core. It was scary, but now I want her to see through me more than ever.

"The Ministry is signing the documents right now. I'm technically not supposed to tell you, really. I guess I just wanted to tell you, because...well..."

He looked more serious than ever and I regretted turning my head to him, because how could I hate my own brother? Yes he was a prat and yes he had done things that I didn't agree with, but at the end of the day he was still my brother.

"Because what, Perce?"

"Because I am sorry."

He bit his lip the exact moment I bit mine. We shared a moment, a smile. As he was starting to walk away, I remembered something.

"What documents?"

Percy turned back, a half-smile on his face.

"Your prisoner release forms."

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	5. You're Barely Waking

**Title:** True Serpent

**Summary:** Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?

**Disclaimer:** I own the plot, which makes me very happy. I just wish I'd own a lot of reviews too...

**A/N: **Hermione's perspective, once again.

**A/N:** The song is called "Collide" by Howie Day

**A/N:** Sorry for the short chapter, my wrist hurts a LOT

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_You're barely waking…_

I still feel guilty for yelling at them. They are practically family. It's not like I don't understand. I do. I know that they are only trying to protect me, that they don't want me to suffer through hours of watching him, hearing him speak. I know that they want to **help**, but how can they? How can anything make me feel better? I feel like I'm ripped in two, like there is a void in me. I'm so scared of feeling, of not feeling. I don't want to be like this, I want everything to turn back to normal, but how can they when life has been altered beyond repair?

I know that they couldn't have stopped me if I had really wanted to be there. I know that I am an adult, but still I allowed them to make the decision for me. Did I not want to go? Did I believe he was guilty? He had admitted to the crime, had he not? Why would he do something like that, if he wasn't the murderer? Why would he kill Harry, if he had? I don't know what to believe. I don't know what to **do**.

My room is still as sunny as it has always been, but I feel cold. Pictures of happy people, of me, are scattered across the floor. I can't stand to look at him anymore, but I keep picking up that one picture of us. We look happy. Careless. Why can't I believe that he is innocent? We've been friends for such a long time. I feel guilty for not being there for him.

They promised to call me after the hearing, but I have heard nothing. I wish I would know whether or not that's a good sign. I keep flipping channels, even though the muggle TV has hardly spent any time discussing the murder. To them it's just another sixteen-year-old boy. Another tragedy. They don't know about the darkness, about the fear. The whispers about Voldemort, about the prophecy that has somehow become common knowledge. They don't hear the rumours. They don't feel the fear. If only Harry could kill Voldemort, are we doomed? Neither can live while the other survives. Some people think Ron is innocent because they believe the prophecy says only Voldemort could kill Harry. I've tried to fathom the exact meaning of the prophecy ever since he told us, and I've come to the conclusion that they are wrong. We've been outsmarted. Voldemort would never be able to come close to us, not with the Order around. So instead, he chose someone already close to us, so we would never see it coming. And he was right. We didn't see it coming.

There's just one thing. I don't **know** if that's what really happened. I don't know if Ron has been chosen, if he was acting on orders. I had hoped, god yes. I **wanted** him to be under the Imperius curse because maybe, just maybe, he would be released from Azkaban. But maybe he's better off in there. I heard it's not so bad anymore, with the Dementors gone. Maybe it's better this way. Even if...he'd still be a murderer. He'd still have killed hope. No matter how we twist it, Harry won't come back.

I know that Molly and Arthur are as confused as I am. They want to believe he is innocent, as innocent as someone who killed can be, but there's a problem. He confessed. He knew what he was doing. Shouldn't he have walked away, had he been Imperiused? Shouldn't he have done something, killed someone else perhaps? Why did he stay there? Why did he tell the Ministry that he had done it?

Some days I want to talk to him, want to ask him all those questions. Scream at him, perhaps. I am torn between wanting to punch him and wanting to hug him at the same time. I don't know what to do, what to say, if I ever saw him again. I don't even know if I want to see him.

And yet when the Daily Prophet arrives I tremble in anticipation. I hardly pay any attention to the owl delivering it, absentmindedly handing it money. There it is. On the front page.

**Murderer Harry Potter to be released later on today**

My eyes skip past the summary to the actual story.

_Yesterday at 11.00 a.m. Ronald Bilius Weasley, better known as the murderer of The Boy Who Lived, was called to court once again. Due to new evidence, that has up until now not been disclosed to the community, he is to be released later on today._

I feel...disappointed somehow. The headlines are screaming at me, but my vision is blurred. Questions are whirling in my head, each one trying to linger long enough for me to notice, to consciously ask myself what, why and more importantly **how**. How did this happen? What was this new evidence they were talking about? Why had they not come across this information before?

I don't know what to do now. I don't know what to feel. Should I be happy? Should I call the Weasleys? Did they know already? Of course they did. They had to. What were they feeling? What was going to happen? Were we going to let Ron back into our lives? Was I?

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	6. I'm Tangled Up In You

**Title:** True Serpent

**Summary:** Shortly after sixth year, Ron changes. Trust will turn out to be fatal. How will people around him cope with his actions? And how will he?

**Disclaimer: **I own the plot

**A/N: **Short chapter, sorry, I am depressed

**A/N: **Ron's POV

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_I'm tangled up in you..._

Personal belongings were scattered across the floor as I was led into a room very few prisoners ever saw. I was ordered to grab mine, or pick whatever I liked since most people never needed their belongings anymore anyway. The walls were grey, paint having been applied in a messy way. I wondered whether the Dementors themselves had painted those walls. They had a thing for grey. Dark, depressing, never-going-to-see-the-sun-again-grey. Which is exactly how I had felt up until a few hours ago. I still couldn't believe that I was here, that I was going to leave this hellhole. I felt like shouting, like jumping up and down and doing **something** to get rid of this explosive burn in my chest. I wanted to smile. Wanted to cry.

Suddenly I saw it, partially hidden by a green and silver cloak. My wand. The thing I had cursed all those nights that I was lying on the ground, with nothing but a grey blanket to soothe me. The thing that had betrayed me. Somehow, even though I realised, or **knew**, that I had killed my best friend, I still didn't understand exactly what had happened. Or why I had suddenly been un-Imperiused, if that was truly the case. I had wondered, all those days. All those damned days that I spent watching those few rays of sun that danced across my cell. I thought of her, of why I became myself again as she had wrapped her arms around me. I thought of my family, of what they would think of me. What they would do when I saw them again. **Would** I see them again? Would they want to, now that I was going to get out? They had never visited me here, and I was fairly certain that Percy didn't share my fate with them. They had abandoned me, and I deserved it. What had changed this time? Did an Imperius curse make me innocent?

I took the wand up gingerly, feeling a calm overcome me as soon as the cold wood touched the palm of my hand.

_At least now I have a chance_, I thought, a chance of finding out what happened, who had done this to me, to us, because I couldn't believe that I had truly killed Harry because of **me**. He had been my best mate, the only person I had tried to confide in. When he caught up with me that day, I was determined to tell him. I needed to tell someone about those blackouts, and I couldn't tell anyone else. Ginny'd freak, thinking Voldemort or someone else would have control over me. She'd insist on telling mum, and I'd never leave the Burrow again. Hermione would react the same way. I couldn't tell the person I loved anyway. I wanted her to think of me as someone who could handle himself, and that was hard enough as it was. I wasn't strong, or brave like Harry. I wasn't smart like Hermione or witty and creative like so many others we hung out with in school. I was me, clumsy, light-headed Ron, ever the stupid sidekick. I knew that Harry would understand. I **hoped** that he would anyway. It had taken me weeks of debating with myself, of wondering why Harry shouldn't react the same way as I expected Hermione and Ginny to.

I had wanted to tell him. I really had. Even today I don't know exactly what had happened during that blackout. I'm not sure I want to know, really. It's hard enough as it is. But at least now I have a chance, a way to fix things, to make sure that Voldemort doesn't win the war because of me. I don't want to be responsible for another darkness. The darkness inside of me is hard enough to bear.

I need to find a way to fix everything, to make things right again with everybody. I need to avenge Harry and become not only a murderer by name but a murderer by heart.

**Review please!**


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